I'm not sure where I'm going with this...

I have spent most of my 30 odd years in degrees of poverty varying from destitute to just plain low income. My childhood was undoubtedly the worst in terms of *how* poor, but lately, it *feels* worse because of the stress and worry of having children to care for and constantly feeling like I'm not doing good enough. That, and I am much more aware of our circumstances and what it feels like to be stuck for the foreseeable future.

When I was a kid I knew we were poor, but I didn't yet have anything to compare it to, so I just thought that's the way things were. I mean, I knew some people lived differently of course. There was a single nice house in our neighborhood, that had been there before it became a trailer park. It was two stories, and white with blue shutters. It had a back porch, and a big yard, and a high fence around it. I was lucky enough to be friends with one of the kids that lived there, and got to swim in their big blue pool, so I knew that was different for some people. I was just pretty certain that this was how things were for us, and didn't give it much more thought unless something bad happened. I know now that my parents were acutely aware of our situation, and it must certainly have been so much harder for them.

As a kid, I knew that I hated spending hours with my mom trimming moldy, rotten strawberries in order to leave some morsels worth eating. As an adult, I've felt, piercingly, that pain that comes from not being sure if I can feed my children. The stress, the worry, the feeling of inadequacy. You can bet I've cooked many a questionable thing to make sure we all had something to eat. It kills me to have to do that, but the difference is I don't tell my family or have them help. There are still times though that I have to tell my daughter that she can't have more to eat because we have to save some food for Daddy, and no, I can't give you anything else because then I will be using up what is supposed to feed us tomorrow...She is healthy and not malnourished, and eats plenty, but it still feels really wrong to turn away a kid who wants more to eat.

As a kid, I knew I hated being teased and bullied for how I looked and the clothes I wore and where I lived. As an adult, I make it point to make sure my kids have clean, nice clothes. Even so, they both have items they could use more of. Pants, tights, socks. They have just enough to make do, but I wish I could give them more. Sure they may still get teased (kids suck that way), but it won't ever be for wearing dirt, ratty clothes. It is really hard sometimes, but thrift stores are a lot nicer these days, and carry nicer things, so it's easier than when I was a kid. Plus my kids are lucky to have very generous family. They might still get teased for not wearing brand names or something, but I hope to at least give them enough self esteem and awareness to know that their worth is not dependent on how much their clothes cost.

As a kid, I knew I felt jealous that other kids had nicer things; nicer toys, nicer bikes, a Lisa Frank trapper keeper. As an adult, sometimes I struggle to give my kids nice things. Big stores like Wal-mart make that much easier (sadly sometimes at the expense of child labor!), but all in all, it's easier for my girls to have nice toys etc. for less money than when I was a kid. Still, there are many times a month where my oldest asks for something, and I tell her no, and she asks why. Rather than fabricate a lie about her behavior, I find the only honest answer I can give, is we don't have the money. It pains me, especially since we are riding a roller coaster right now, sometimes it's something pretty small and inexpensive that we could have afforded the week before, but can't now. I can tell the day is coming soon where she will quit asking because she already knows the answer. I remember that feeling. I don't want my children to have it.

As a kid, I knew I hated our neighborhood, hated our trashy house, and dreamed about moving in with my grandmother who had a relatively new, nice house with a white sofa and white carpeting. As an adult, I feel minutely every bit of guilt and shame and disappointment that sometimes we have to live in a crappy place because we can't afford better.

Sometimes, it seems as if I've doomed my children to the childhood I had, and it kills me. Ignorance may not be bliss, but knowing just how bad things are, and how much worse they can get, is a torture of it's own. It's the almost unbearable burden of parents in a poor family. Being responsible for the well being and happiness of others, and not being able to meet that responsibility, is soul crushing.

Many people say money isn't everything. Money can't buy happiness. Focus on the riches you do have, like family. I do, I swear I do, but I don't want more money just for money's sake, I want it so I can feel good about taking care of my children and free them from worries they shouldn't have. I want to give them every chance of a good life and happiness. I want them to have every chance that they deserve, instead of only the ones they can afford to get. And it is so ridiculously hard to do without more money. Sure the child in me wants to give them everything I never had, but the adult in me, the parent, wants to first give them the things they deserve as human beings, and I'm not certain that I can...